Stutterer
by b does the write thing
Summary: Due to his stutter, Robert Gold has a hard time making himself understood...except with his online pen pal Belle French. When an opportunity arises for them to meet, Gold isn't sure if he's ready.


"Thank you for calling Storybrooke Cable, we appreciate your call. You are... next in line."

As the robotic voice died away, Robert Gold returned back to his book and tried to focus. The speaker phone continued to play cheery music from here it sat beside him. Gripping his pencil tighter than necessary, he frowned down at the illustrations staring up at him. He had already made a few notes in the margins, and he reread them before he turned to the next page.

A new picture stared up at him, it was a female's face with her hand brushing along her smiling cheek. Noting the particular twist of her wrist with her fingers pointing sideways, he mimicked the gesture, brow furrowed as he slowly lifted his own hand up to his chin. His fingers felt stiff and clumsy, but he ignored the discomfort, double checking the book's notes on placement and positioning.

He nearly fell out of his chair when the elevator music stopped abruptly. "Hello, this is Ashley," a customer service representative greeted. She sounded as tired as he felt. "How can I help you today?"

Reaching for the phone, he went over what he was going to say.

" _Hello, my name is Robert Gold. You've overcharged me on my last month's bill. I already paid what was due but I see there's an overdue fee for the overcharge amount, can you explain why?"_

"Hello?" the voice over the line repeated, sounding confused. "Is anyone there?"

"H...H...Hel...Hel…"

"Hello? Sir, I can't hear you."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his tongue swelling in his mouth as the words refused to come out. In his head, he heard the words again. " _Hello, yes, my name is Robert Gold…"_

"H...Hel-"

The line cut dead as the operator hung up, not having understood his attempts to return her greetings. His fingers curled around the edges of his phone before he slowly sighed, shoulders unclenching as he hit redial. He was used to this.

"Hello! Thank you for calling Storybrooke Cable! Your call is important to us. You are the tenth caller. Please hold and a customer representative will be with you shortly."

Sighing, he pressed the speaker button again before standing, stretching out his back. Outside, night had fallen and he could see the street lamps glowing from his bedroom window. The music emanating from the phone would at least keep him company. As he shuffled back over to his desk, he decided he had studied enough for the evening. Turning away from the books on sign language, he couldn't help his small hopeful smile as he clicked the computer to life. Logging on to Facebook, he was disappointed to see he had no new notifications. He clicked aimlessly through his newsfeed, trying to distract himself from self pity.

Neal had talked him into setting up a profile over a year ago, claimed it would be helpful for him to keep in touch with people. Not that Gold knew many people. He restored antiques and sold them online. No one came into his shop, and no one called it since it didn't have any telephone number listed. It was easier that way, he thought, eyes glancing over to his cell phone screen. He didn't like to talk much.

Ding!

His head jerked back to the screen to see a new message in his inbox. Smiling foolishly, he clicked the little red icon, and was instantly rewarded with seeing the very person he had been hoping to hear from had just sent him a new message.

 **Guess what I just realized?**

 **What?** He typed back, watching as his own picture and name appeared below hers. He was used to it by now, seeing the beautiful blue eyed brunette's smiling face right above his own twisted smirk. Still, every time he saw them next to each other, he couldn't help but think of what they might like together, their photos merged into one.

 **Well...tomorrow, we will have been emailing for six months! Can you believe it?**

He could actually. Emma had insisted he join a few antique groups, and Henry had helped him find ones that would be of interest to him. That's how he had met Belle French, an Australian book collector and lover of antiques. They had posted back and forth for a week or two on the group page before she had added him as a friend.

It had then taken him two weeks to get the courage to email her, asking her thoughts on an online listing for a first edition Hugo. She had been quick to respond and soon there messaging went from advice and discourse on antiques, to being what Gold could only call flirtatious banter.

 **Six months?** He typed back, smiling fondly at her icon. **Surely you haven't been putting up with me for six months?**

 **Afraid so** , she shot back. **Do I win a prize?**

The elevator music was still playing, a reminder he was still on hold. As badly as he wanted to hang up, already anxious about having to try and make himself understood again, he knew he needed to clear this matter up before they disconnected his service. If he lost his internet, he would lose Belle. Perfect, lovely, hilarious Belle would disappear from his life, as online acquaintances were wont to do.

 **I've heard that six months is when one starts talking in text speech and emojis.** He replied, double checking his grandson's text messages to remind him how this bit worked exactly. Henry had been determined to bring him into the new way of doing things, despite his grandfather's laughing resistance. **U no what that meanz rite?! ;)**

 **STOP. I beg of you!** Belle typed back immediately. **You know how much I love words!**

 **So, that's a no to moving our relationship along?**

 **For now...**

For now? He leaned backwards in his chair, blinking at the email as if it was in a different language. What's was that supposed to mean? He saw the small dots indicating she was still typing and waited, heart beating oddly in his chest.

 **I'm so sorry I can't really talk right now, but I have a good reason, I promise. Will you be online tomorrow? I have a surprise for you.**

 **Surprise? What surprise?**

 **If I tell you, it won't be a surprise silly!**

 **I suppose...**

 **Ha, nice try. I'll talk to you tomorrow. XoXo, Belle**

Her icon went gray and left him staring in some hopeful confusion at his screen.

Snap Judgement 40,986.

There was a tall brunette emerging from a doorway across the street from his shop. She had a deep red streak in her otherwise black hair, short shorts over thick tights and wedged boots that made her nearly as tall as the doorway she was leaning against.

 _Young rebel type. Wants everyone to know she's there because she feels invisible. Much smarter than she lets on, enjoys a challenge. Scared of her own success, probably prefers meaningless flings and dead end jobs because they're safer. Just had sex with some loser, already regretting the cab fare home._

As if she could feel someone watching her, the young woman's eyes cut to him. Embarrassed, he put his head down as he moved quicker to his doorway. "Hey!" he heard her call out to him, and he grimaced. "Excuse me, sir? I'm looking for the bus station, is there one around here?"

He kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard her. He didn't mean to be rude but...his condition made things a bit awkward. Especially people needing directions.

"Hey!" she exclaimed again, and he heard her footsteps coming across the street. He still didn't look up, hand going for the keys in his pocket as he neared his own door.

He had nearly gotten the keys in the door before her hand descended on his shoulder. Startled, he jerked around to find her scowling at him. "Didn't you hear me?" she demanded, arms crossing over her chest. "I just need directions to the bus station."

He let his eyes go wide, before making an 'a' with his right hand and rotating it on his chest in a clockwise motion. She shook her head in confusion. "The bus station?"

His smile went brittle as he repeated the gesture. When she still stared at him in confusion, he lifted his index finger to his cheek, right below his ear and dragged it down to the corner of his mouth.

Realization appeared in the young woman's eyes and she looked horrified. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she groaned, closing her eyes in a wince.

She fluttered her own hands, looking for all the world as if she wanted to sink into the pavement. He smiled, nodded at her to tell her it was alright as she opened and shut her mouth, desperate to apologize but not knowing how.

The young woman moved to go, turning back to him with a sad smile and mouthed 'Sorry!' at him before starting to walk away. There was a coffee shop down the street, and she headed towards it.

 _Yea, the bus station,_ he said sadly to himself. _Go two blocks north, turn right and it'll be on the next corner. Can't miss it._

Instead, he let himself in his shop, feeling completely overwhelmed.

"Dad, it your turn."

He nodded, moving the bishop to capture Neal's queen as his son groaned audibly in distress. As Neal pondered his next move, Gold practiced his surprise for his son.

Music. Life. Error.

Music. Life. Error.

Music. Music. Music.

Neal made a play with his rook, capturing a pawn but setting up Gold's Queen to take his son's lone bishop.

"With...Withou...Without mmm..music….liii...l-life would….b...b...be….an….air...air...error."

Neal beamed at him from over his coffee mug. "That's real nice, Dad," he said warmly. "I like that one."

Gold smiled back at him, glancing back down to check if there was any other moves available to him. Quotes had been Neal's idea originally. His son would bring home quotes, sharing them with him. Gold had started to do the same, practicing them over and over again until he could share them with his son. Neal loved words, and he unlike most people always encouraged his father to speak, not hearing or noticing the stutter that made his speech incomprehensible.

Saturday dinner at Neal's was a tradition. His daughter-in-law was in the kitchen, and he could hear some pots banging around as she prepared dinner. The fire alarm started to go off as they heard Emma curse, and the sound of the back door opening. He caught his son's eye and winked, even as his grandson appeared in the doorway.

"Dad," Henry groaned, "why is Mom cooking?"

"It's fine!" Emma called out. "Everything's under control!"

After dinner which ended up being pizza from Gepetto's after the meatloaf burned, Emma joined him and Henry on the couch. She handed him a bowl of popcorn, looking over at him as he nodded his thanks.

"How's the signing going?" she asked him.

Gold shrugged nonchalantly. It was going well as could be considered, but he wasn't ready to display what he head learned for an audience. Henry, sitting beside him, perked up from his own phone, at the subject of his grandfather's new project. His entire family had been supportive and he had been relieved they had been so receptive to it.

"I think it's great you're learning to sign, Grandpa!" he enthused. "Dad said we could go to the library this weekend and check out some books too." Emma nodded her agreement. Gold nodded fondly at the two of them, before lifting a finger to his mouth to indicate silence. He pointed back at the screen where the movie was quickly unfolding and they both fell silent.

Which only meant he could better hear his son in the other room.

"No, I'm his son," Neal complained, "and I wouldn't have to be speaking to you if someone would just speak to him! He's tried to call numerous times and is continually hung up on! Yes but he's tried! He has a speech disorder-"

Gold tried to tune it out, but his hands curled in fists on his lap as he tried to focus on the movie. Henry's small hand gripped his, and he smiled over at his grandson who continued to stare at the screen, as if nothing at all amiss was happening.

"The website had been down for two weeks now or else he would have spoken to someone using the chat feature," Neal was saying. "You should have a log of calls, if you check from this number you'll see over ten attempted calls this week alone."

Without a word, Emma turned the volume up and Neal's voice was drowned out. He sat there, saying the words over and over in his head, hearing them as clear and precise.

" _Hello. My name is Robert Gold and I'm calling about my bill."_

" _Hello_."

" _Hello_."

By the time he got home that evening, he was exhausted. Still, he shuffled over to his computer and turned it on, glancing at the clock over his desk. He had set it to Australian Eastern Daylight Time three months ago and currently it showed it was one in the afternoon down under.

Sure enough, as soon as he logged in to his facebook, Belle's smiling face greeted him.

 **Hey!**

He felt a wave of tension wash away just at the sight of her icon.

 **Hello there. How are you?**

 **Great! How was your day?**

 **Better now.**

 **Oh no, that doesn't sound very good. Well, I have something that might brighten up your day! Remember that surprise I mentioned?**

Gold smiled. It had been on his mind all day.

 **I may remember something about it…**

 **Well.. oh gosh, here it goes! I'll going to be in Boston for a few days starting Tuesday! I thought maybe...if you have time, you could come down and we could meet? In real life?**

Every warm and happy thought drained out of him. His tongue swelled in his mouth, his throat went dry and he stared at the bright smiling face of Belle French and felt panic starting to swell in his chest.

Without thinking, he closed the window. Left staring at the computer desktop, he felt it was still too close, too near the sure embarrassment of meeting Belle French and he pressed the off button until he was left sitting in the darkness of his study.

After a moment, he stood and made his way to bed, too wound up to do much else but lay there and stare up at the ceiling.

The next few days dragged by.

He didn't dare log back into Facebook. He knew he was being a coward, wasting his one chance at ever getting to meet Belle but he couldn't do it. He wasn't ready.

On Thursday, his resolve shattered.

Logging on, he saw the red icon of one message in his inbox and he clicked it before he could talk himself out of it. There was Belle, her profile picture as sunny as ever.

 **Guess not. :(**

His stomach clenched. As if to add pain to misery, he clicked on her picture. It magnified before him, her laughing face all beauty and sunshine. He hit the arrow key, and the next one popped up, the one she had when she had added him six months ago. Where she was standing under a tree, holding a cat and laughing at someone off camera. He kept clicking on to the next picture, seeing her smiling face again and again and again.

What was he doing?

He stopped, breathing hard as he stared at the picture of her smiling down at her phone, a secret smile meant just for whoever had just texted her. He wondered who it was, if she smiled like that when she saw his name pop up on her screen.

And in the next second, he was typing.

 **Sorry, God Belle, I'm so sorry-**

He hit the delete button. Too desperate.

 **Belle, sorry I'm just now getting back to you. The thing is-**

He didn't know what the thing was. Well, he did. He was a coward but she didn't need to know that. He hit the backspace button again.

 **Just saw this-**

Lie.

 **I don't think it would be a good idea.**

True. But he wanted to see her, badly enough he had barely slept knowing she was in the same country as him and yet still so far away. He deleted that and started again.

 **Belle, I'm sorry I've not gotten back to you. If you would still like, I would love to come down to Boston and see you. Just say the day and time. Yours, the world's biggest ass.**

He hit send and waited.

No turning back now.

She didn't respond.

Four days later and nothing.

In front of him at the checkout line, a man was juggling his groceries, looking all the world as if he wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment.

Snap Judgement 40992.

 _A loner. Not by choice but because for some reason he had never been able to make friends. Good man, meant well, liked dogs. Probably too smart for his own good, bad at social cues and rubbish at telling lies. Too intense for most people._

As the redheaded man finally paid and left, Gold shuffled up to the self checkout kiosk and quickly paid for his things. Behind him, he heard people talking and the shuffle of the store but all of that fell way when he heard a ding in his pocket.

He nearly dropped his milk grabbing for his phone. Henry had installed Facebook on his smartphone, showed him the messaging app and told him it would alert him the second someone emailed him.

Sure enough, there was Belle's name on his screen.

He scanned her email. She admitted to being upset and then uncertain but was willing to give him another shot. In a flurry of raw nerves and reckless bravery, he confirmed a time and a place before he could change his mind. He could do this. He knew he could do this.

"Hey brother, let's move it along!"

He turned, smiling brilliantly at the grumpy man behind him as he grabbed for his bags. He had a date with Belle French tomorrow in Boston at seven pm and nothing was going to ruin his day.

 _A. B. C_

He tugged at his collar, going over the shapes of the alphabet in his mind's eye.

 _D. E. F. G._

He checked the time once more. Not even five yet and he was in Boston with nothing to do but kill time until he met Belle. The car was parked at the hotel, because Neal had insisted he get a hotel room. He thought it a bit presumptuous but he hated driving in the dark so he had allowed himself to be convinced.

 _H. I. J. K._

He made his way out into the streets, looking for a flower shop with the help of his phone. He found one two blocks east of the hotel, buying Belle a dozen roses. His nerves were singing, frayed to the point of snapping as he made his way slowly down the street, cradling them to his chest.

 _L. M. N. O. P._

He could do this. _"Hello, Belle. I got you flowers."_

He caught sight of himself in a mirrored window, a three piece suit and gray hair holding flowers like some lovesick swain. He stopped, stricken. " _Hello, Belle. Nothing says stalker like a dozen roses."_

He tossed them. Face flushed, he made his way to the nearest bookstore. Books were safe, Belle loved books. They had bonded over books in the first place.

 _Q. R. S._

He found a nice little shop three blocks later, his armpits starting to stain from sweat and nerves. After an hour of searching, he decided on the small french fairytale Beauty and the Beast, french calligraphy and illustrations making the small book look ornate and special. The clark wrapped it for him, smiling in understanding as he tugged at his collar and checked his watch.

 _T. U. V._

It was time. Making his way across the street, he double checked his phone's map and realized he was much closer than he had realized. It was dark now, and he tugged at his tie, loosening it as he helped to any higher power he didn't look a complete mess.

 _W. X. Y._

When he turned the corner, he saw her.

 _Z._

She was standing all alone under the awning of Lumiere's, a gold and blue dress swirling around her knees as she peered one way and then the other. Her hands were clenched on her purse strap, and he watched as she fished her phone out and checked the time.

 _and Z._

He was frozen in place. His hand clutched tighter around the book, crinkling the brown wrapping paper and crushing the ribbon.

 _and Z._

 _and Z._

 _and Z._

He didn't know how long he stood there, watching her until some man walking behind her stopped, smiling at her. Belle didn't notice, glancing down at her phone and biting her lip in growing uncertainty. He felt his own innards churn together but his feet refused to move.

The stranger tapped Belle's shoulder and she whirled around in surprise. The man said something to which Belle shrugged back, shaking her head at him. He repeated it and Gold took a halting step forward.

Belle looked embarrassed but she pulled her fist to her chest, made a small clockwise motion before then lifting her finger to her cheek and dragging it down to her mouth. The man nodded, lifting a hands to apologize before continuing on.

She turned back around, lifting her head and looking right at him.

He smiled, he couldn't help it. Her eyes were as beautiful as her pictures but her answering smile was more infectious than he could have dreamed. She looked a little self conscious, making a few quick hand gestures across the road, indicating for him to join her.

He nodded, checked the street both ways for cars and then stepped towards his future. His fingers clenched around the book, as her eyes beckoned him forward. He felt his throat relax, his lips twisted upwards and his heart beating in his chest in a steady but strong beat. His anxiety vanished as he stopped before her, her blue eyes shining in equal nervousness anticipation as he signed hello.

After all, he had been practicing.

* * *

 _So, this little story is based off the Short Film Stutterer which the entire time I was watching I was having major Rumbelle feels. I want to be clear that this story is purely fiction, based off another work of fiction. I stayed as true to the source material and subject matter as possible and am very pleased with how well it fit for our lovely Fluffapoolaza._

 _Happy anniversary guys!_


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